


Masturbation Science Theater 3000

by StripySock



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: (to an extent), Anal Sex, Exhibitionism, Humor, I blame Alan Hollinghurst, M/M, Masturbation, Porn Watching, Public Sex, Safer Sex, Stranger Sex, afternoon sex, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 10:04:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1300945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripySock/pseuds/StripySock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Jared had never owned a raincoat, dirty or otherwise. He’d thought vaguely that this in itself should be enough evidence to prevent him from being the sort of man who ended up sitting in a movie theater at three thirty on a Saturday afternoon watching porn. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masturbation Science Theater 3000

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a play on Mystery Science Theater
> 
> Alan Hollinghurst is to blame for a lot.

Jared had never owned a raincoat, dirty or otherwise. He’d thought vaguely that this in itself should be enough evidence to prevent him from being the sort of man who ended up sitting in a movie theater at three thirty on a Saturday afternoon watching porn. Unfortunately, apparently it wasn't. He slouched down and stared at the screen where an actor was enthusiastically blowing his wad all over his co-star’s face, and glanced down at his dick which was mildly hard but not at the same state of engorgement as the ten foot tall dick that towered on the screen. Jared thought it might be a little scared of it in fact, if not intimidated, certainly it wasn't responding as he could have hoped even with the gentle encouragement of his right hand.

 

Maybe it was as embarrassed as the rest of him that he was even there. When he'd heard about this place it had been from Chad almost killing himself with laughter. "I thought those shitholes had died out in the eighties man. Pornography killed the radio star and all that," he'd said with the glee of a man with a fast internet connection.

 

Jared had laughed along, secure in the belief that yeah, what sort of person would masturbate in public in a cinema. Someone who hadn't heard of google? Dirty old men who wanted to get their rocks off in the vain hope that somebody would see their wrinkled old balls with a lower chance of being arrested than flashing? Which was why he still couldn't quite believe that he was there. It's not that there isn't porn on the internet or that he's dredged the amateur sites dry, hell, it's not even that he hasn't tried jerking off to the skin mags that the old man at the corner store kept under the counter, suspiciously pristine in plastic covers. It's that he can't come. Nothing catches his interest enough. He's even been desperate enough to try and recapture that teenage buzz of masturbating to the lingerie section of a JCPenney catalog, complete with eyes squinted shut to juuust about make out the shape of a nipple through a lacy bra, but his wrist was sore and aching before he even came close to coming.

 

He was too young, he told himself, for erectile dysfunction, and he wondered if he might be living proof that a human being could reach a certain number of orgasms and then just run out. Briefly he entertained the thought of a completely chaste life, utilizing the power of his unspent sexual energy to climb the career ladder like any other frustrated exec, or even to levitate, and equally as swiftly dismissed it. He'd tried the most obvious and natural solution almost straight away. Sex. First he'd tried a club, but Chad had told him that he looked like he was about to kill somebody and that he wasn't exactly enticing women with his clenched jaw and the rigid thousand-yard stare of someone with a painful boner that he couldn't get rid of. A gay bar had given him no better results, there was clearly something in his sexual aura that was driving people away from him (possibly even his own dick wanted to pick up and leave).

 

When he'd tried, after the influence of a potent mixture of beer and tequila slammers to explain his problem to Chad, the hysterical laughter that had ensued had almost had them thrown out of the bar, and had Jared wondering why even drunk off his ass he'd thought it was a good idea to tell Chad his woes. Another tequila slammer knocked his thoughts off track for a bit, and allowed Chad to start coming up with the filthiest ideas to solve Jared's well above average problem. It started with a suggestion that he become a lapdancer, to which Jared told him to fuck off, and ended with offering to procure Jared a copy of Animal Farm. By this point Jared could barely understand anything that was going on, but he was still pretty sure that if Chad was offering it, he didn't want it (and five minutes on google the next day had him absolutely certain of that).

 

At some point, between the first seven tequilas and the last seven though, Chad had come up with a good idea. "What gets you off man? You should do that," he'd slurred, "like really, really gets you off. Like how I get with spoons, you know - people sucking them."

 

Two good things had come out of that conversation - something to torment Chad with forever and an idea.

 

If masturbating on its own was doing nothing for him - mind blank of anything hot enough to tip him over the edge, internet failing him for the first time, even teenage fantasies not cutting it, he needed something...a little extra. Something that would get him hot enough to finish off. He couldn't help thinking there was a psychological factor to it now, like if he could just get off once everything would go back to normal. Every time it didn't work was just pressuring him more. There weren't that many things that he could think really did it for him, during his relationships he'd always been happy with good old fashioned plain vanilla sex, and most of the alternatives seemed instantly too weird (or too difficult to achieve without a partner). After three phone calls to ex-partners with desperate pleas, he was left with one thing they all agreed on. The one constant it seemed, was that Jared came harder when there was the possibility of being caught in the act or of being watched while he did so. Once his mind had latched onto the possibility it was impossible to forget.

 

He thought for the first time ever with regret of the times in his life when he'd had housemates who were always happy to fling open the doors onto his private masturbation sessions, of college roommates who always brought their family back to look around at the least opportune moment, of every occasion when he'd reached his vinegar strokes in the space of time it took someone to mount the last three stairs before they got to his room. He'd never thought of calling it a kink or of wondering why it worked for him, but armed with this knowledge an end to his masturbation melodrama seemed in sight. Only now he didn't have any roommates and engineering a situation like that seemed more than a little awkward. He dismissed the possibility of humiliating himself by asking Chad to either pretend to catch him or even worse to watch him because he'd rather go without an orgasm for the rest of his life than ever have that conversation, and besides his dick (now that it felt it might be getting a chance) was quite explicit that the situation being engineered was not the same thing at all.

 

Which was how he'd ended up in a movie theater, desperately trying to pretend it was something that he did all of the time, before worrying about what if he looked like the sort of person who did this all the time, and he was pissed that it was all going to waste. There were about three other people in the room, all of them spread out on their own rows, looking fixedly at the screen, and more jerking elbows than Jared cared to think about. Apparently when voyeurism was normalized it wasn't quite the same turn-on to Jared.

 

He morosely fondled his dick and looked back up at the screen at what felt like the dreariest, bleakest, most Camus-like sex scene he'd ever seen, and wondered whether this was some sort of aesthetic experience purposefully designed for people who felt too happy in their lives and needed to tone it down a bit, or some type of training camp for French philosophers. He was still jerking at his cock when, in a direct violation of everything Jared had learnt in the last hour about porn cinema etiquette, a man slid onto the same row of seats as him, sat down no more than two seats away and then turned to him and whispered "what have I missed?"

 

Jared debated the urge to sssh him in case they missed a vital plot point and then remembered where he was. "It's about an hour in," he murmured, "one blowjob, one anal scene and more cunnilingus than you could shake a stick at. Or a dick at for that matter."

 

"An hour?" the other man said and he sounded genuinely horrified, "an hour and you're not done? What's up with your dick? Or not up with it as the case may be."

 

"I wish I knew," Jared said, "forget finishing strokes theater, this is last chance saloon for me."

 

"Jesus," the other man said, and Jared looked at him properly for the first time. He was way too hot to belong here was his first thought, even in the sodden light that spilled from the screen, eyes fixed intently on Jared like he actually cared about Jared's dick problems.

 

"What are you doing here yourself?" he asked, genuinely curious.

 

"Would you believe me if I said sociology research?"

 

"Yes," Jared replied.

 

"Well if I said it, it would be a lie. It was pouring down outside and I wanted to see what it would be like. Not stimulating from the looks of things."

 

"Don't take me as a test case," Jared replied, "I haven't been able to get off in days. I'm pretty sure the old dude in the corner, in the orange baseball cap, has got off twice though if you're looking for a goal to aim for." It wasn't the first time he'd made idle chit-chat with a stranger while he jerked himself off - thanks to memorable combinations of the wrong alcohol and the right parties - but this was definitely the weirdest occasion.

 

"Thanks for the tip," the other man said, "I'm Jensen by the way."

 

"Jared," Jared replied and offered his clean left hand, appreciating the firmness of Jensen's grip. They both turned back in silence to the screen and Jared went back to his neglected task before Jensen's fingers were suddenly on his thigh.

 

"This is ridiculous, man. I'm not letting you sit and suffer like that, not while I have a hand to give."

 

"I've always depended on the kindness of strangers?" Jared offered and spread his legs quite willingly as much as he could anyway, having only opened the button fly of his pants enough to get his cock out. Jensen's hand wasn't shy, got a good firm grip on him and began, with commendable skill, to jerk him off. Jared decided for the sake of politeness to keep looking at the screen, but soon gave up on that as the two men on the screen were substantially less attractive than the man beside him, so he sneaked glances at him instead, catching sight of his profile, occasionally illuminated by the light of the screen, eyes fixed ahead, good strong nose and a mouth that if Jared was not (newly) aware of jerk off cinema etiquette would be really tempting to kiss.

 

Yet, despite the fact that a hot man was jerking him off, and doing it well - slippery slide of his fingers over the crown of Jared's cock, firm grasp on the upward tug, teasing twist on the downward, Jared still wasn't getting there, and he bit his lip, all his previous worries flooding back. What if there was something so wrong with him it couldn't be fixed? What if he never came again? He wasn't exactly hyperventilating at the thought but he'd tensed right up and Jensen had clearly noticed it because he stopped.

 

"You are all right with this aren't you?" he said, biting his lip and looking supremely uncertain all of a sudden. "A sexuality crisis in your middle age isn't unusual and if you've never done this before..."

 

Jared cut in indignantly. "Middle age? I'm only twenty-eight!" before he saw the tiny grin hovering on Jensen's mouth.

 

"How nice. We're really getting through the social pleasantries here. I'm thirty-two, I like cheesecake and I once bit a piano teacher's hand when I was fourteen."

 

"I guess that rules out a blowjob," Jared said, eyeing Jensen's teeth, and arching a little into his hand, hips jerking upwards, because even if he wasn't coming it still felt good, and he wanted Jensen to continue what he'd been doing.

 

Jensen snorted. "Damn straight it does, can you imagine what's on the floor of this place? These pants are new." He stopped again, and Jared opened his eyes, having closed them at some point in the process. "You're right, this really isn't working. I think you need something more."

 

"More, like what?" Jared said cautiously, wondering if Jensen was reconsidering the thought of a blowjob.

 

"Have you ever fucked a man?"

 

"Not in public," Jared said, voice rising on the last syllable in shock, feeling like he was Aunt Betty clutching her pearls (which ironically was near enough what was happening on screen now), but reluctantly intrigued by what Jensen was proposing. "Have you?"

 

"I once went to an outdoor festival," Jensen said in an apparent non sequitur. "There were a lot of drugs, a well-known singer from a not inconsiderably famous rock band, and I'm told, video footage on the internet. Luckily it had been extremely rainy, there was a lot of mud and I'm not recognizable as anything other than grinning mud-man number three. My fans call me ‘the athletic one’."

 

"S-sounds like fun," Jared stuttered out as Jensen gave a knowing pull and twist, that had Jared almost shaking in his seat.

 

"It was. I recommend it for moisturizing purposes actually."

 

"I use Nivea for Men myself," Jared said, resisting the urge to jam his hand in his mouth as Jensen continued his painfully good handjob.

 

"So how about it? You, me, the ghosts of everyone who've done this here before, what do you think?"

 

Jared thought that if he was in his right mind he'd have said no. It was four p.m. on a Saturday afternoon, he had a secure job that he didn't want to jeopardize by virtue of a sex scandal, and having sex in a porn theater with a man he'd just met was not on his bucket list. But this wasn’t a normal situation. He was in the state of mind of someone who thought he was going to be resigned to cold showers and doctors visits for the rest of his life, and really, when was he going to get a chance like this again? So, almost unbelievably, he found himself nodding.

 

There was a tiny, sudden spark of surprise in Jensen's eyes at that, as though he hadn't expected his offer to be taken up, but he leant forward just as Jared did, hand still tugging at Jared's dick rhythmically, with a dexterity that indicated those piano lessons had paid off. His mouth was as good as his hands were, an oddly chaste contrast to the lewd scenes that played out on the screen in front of them, slanting softly over Jared's lips like they had all the time in the world, caught at Jared's lip and drew it into his mouth, dipping wetly into the crease of his mouth, and Jared found his hand catching at Jensen's neck to pull him in closer, to suck Jensen's tongue into his own mouth, Jensen's hand still around Jared's cock now.

 

The kissing didn't belong here, didn't belong to what they were proposing to do, more taboo than a quick handjob - reminding Jared more of makeout sessions in the back of the cinema when he was fifteen and more interested in Cory Jacobs than in Kate Winslet and Leonardo deCaprio getting it on. Still if Jensen was into it, that was good enough for him, and it took surprisingly little effort to get Jensen mostly into his lap, one leg braced on the floor, the other pushing in beside Jared's thigh, weight heavy and warm against him, and Jared let his hands sneak up Jensen's t-shirt, still slightly damp from the rain outside, clinging to his skin, felt the smooth width of his shoulders under it, the muscle taut and solid against his hands, and he couldn't quite believe that he hadn't come yet, spilled himself all over the place.

 

"What do you want?" Jensen said against his mouth, giving Jared's breath back to him, shared and halved, and Jared felt dizzy as though there wasn’t enough blood in his body to do all the duties it needed to do. Jared needed to come so badly, it was a physical ache in his groin, even in his back and the tight clench of his hands on Jensen, had to get them down to Jensen's fly to undo his buckle and get his fingers in, through the boxer slit and onto the solid heft of Jensen's cock, flushed and hot in his hand as though Jensen had been hard for nearly as long as Jared had. "Jared," and Jensen nearly lost focus as Jared dragged his fingers up his shaft.

 

Jared wasn't doing great on the comprehension front either, caught up in the moment. "I don't know," he mumbled, "a million dollars?"

 

"I mean do you want me to fuck you?" Jensen said, and leaned forward, trapped Jared against the chair, close and hard against him, "hell, or fuck me. Your dick is amazing, it’s so big, Jesus,” and his fingers tightened a little, a possessive clutch at the goods, that had Jared’s hips flying up to meet him, a new note of pleasure being hit, a combination that was slowly wiping his mind of any thought. Every bit of the pent-up sexual urgency he’d accumulated, every bit of the fear and doubt and shame, was finding a release in this moment.

 

“Fuck me,” he gasped, because the thought of fucking Jensen was so hot it practically scorched him, but if he was going to do this, he was going to do it right, and the thought fed his growing frenzy,  the idea of bracing his hands against the chair in front and taking it from Jensen, fucked so hard and deep he wouldn’t care who saw, wouldn’t care about anything else - possessing him so utterly that it was all he could do in that second not to let every sound he wanted to make out, had to swallow them back, choke them deep inside like there could be some pretence or trace of secrecy still.

 

He wasn’t sure how it was going to work at first - since there was nowhere near enough space between the seats for them to realistically fit or to fuck, but Jensen solved that difficulty for him, heaved himself up, pants slipping down a little bit, and nodded to the row of seats behind them which had significantly more legroom, presumably for wheelchair users, a nod to the ADA that made Jared boggle for a moment. They got themselves over with a minimum of fuss, and Jared got his pants down around his ass, and braced himself on the chair in front, looking out over the rest of the cinema, at the two or three people who remained, eyes still fixed on the screen, one of them fast asleep, snores mingling softly with the recorded groans. He could count the times he’d done this before on one hand, could hardly believe he was doing it now, except that if it was going to happen why not go all out. He was never going to see Jensen again, might as well wring everything from this encounter, secure in the knowledge that it was a one-off.

 

Jensen was fumbling in his pockets, re-emerged with a lube packet, a foil-wrapped condom, and a triumphant ‘ha’. “You carry lube with you?” Jared asked, though he didn’t object to the slippery fingers that were sliding between his legs and pressing upward.

 

“Yeah,” Jensen said, and didn’t offer any explanation, just tugged Jared’s pants down until he had to step out of one leg completely, and then got to work, pressing slippery and wet against his hole, the teasing pressure of his thumb inciting Jared to push backwards, because while there was a time and a place for teasing (on Sunday morning, at home, in bed) this was most definitely not it. He felt almost light-headed from the handjob, from the peculiar warring excitement in himself at doing this with somebody he barely knew, a tight clutch of enjoyment, heavy and hot in his belly, not just from Jensen’s touch, but from the knowledge that anyone could turn round, anyone could be watching at all - someone in the projectionist’s booth, or a manager checking to make sure things were going okay and that none of his patrons had collapsed from fluid loss. It wasn’t that he wanted people watching him, just that the thought was making him even harder at the prospect of maybe someone seeing exactly what was being done to him. The first finger went in easily, Jared breathing in deep and regular, biting down hard on his lip at the feeling, and the second one was almost as smooth, twining with its fellow a little and pushing in hard enough that he had to catch his breath at the stretch, not uncomfortable, but present and insistent, grounding him into remembering where he was and what was happening. Jensen was deliberate in his movements, slower than Jared wanted or needed, fucking in and out like a taste of what was about to come.

 

When he finally fucked Jared, it was almost as slow and deliberate, dick thick and hot against his entrance, pressing in enough that he stretched Jared out around the head, and then withdrew again, before he pushed in properly, relentless and intense, Jared so sensitized he felt every inch of it, curled his fingers into the back of the chair in front of him, hung on for dear life as he slouched down a little to give Jensen more room to work in. He wasn’t just bracing himself, he was bracing Jensen’s thrusts, holding himself upright on legs that were beginning to feel like jello, his breath coming short and fast, shoulders tight from the strain, every inch of him exposed like this, and as Jensen sped his thrusts up, Jared didn’t dare off balance himself by stroking his dick, just hung his head and tried not to shout when Jensen finally began nailing his prostate, holding him in position with a firm hand on his hip, like now he’d found what made Jared come apart he was going to use it to advantage.

 

Jared had no words of objection to that, not when he was being fucked as ruthlessly, as methodically as Jensen was doing, every inch calculated. It felt as though a ten minute chat had somehow given Jensen some insight into Jared that even Jared didn’t know.

 

He wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth though, not when this was the result. He could feel Jensen’s forehead on the nape of his neck now, through his shirt, could hear the ragged breathing that was the only sign that it was taking any toll on him, and then Jensen’s other hand settled itself on Jared’s dick, stroked it hard, almost clumsily.  Jared was so close to the edge, so near falling over it, every sinew in his body urging him to the finale of this bizarre number, that he could feel it flooding through his body, as though he was experiencing a fake orgasm before the real one struck, shiver of heat through over already too hot skin, a hyper awareness of everything around him - the worn plush cloth under his fingers, pattern embedding itself into his hands, a neat replica of checks and balances on his skin, the crunch of what he hoped was popcorn under his feet, and Jensen's hot breath against his neck. He felt the way Jensen was slowing now, his thrusts deeper and slower, grinding into Jared like he couldn’t get enough of him, control bleeding away as he lost his grip, fumbled at Jared’s dick as he twisted a little and thrust back in. That was enough, Jared was coming everywhere, all over Jensen’s hand and over the seat in front of him, a tinge of mortification accompanying the sight, even as he shook through his orgasm, turned his head to stifle the sounds he was making against his arm, aware once more of all the eyes that could be watching, of how Jensen’s hips were snapping in deep and fast, filling him up until he could barely breath from every sensation shooting through him.  

 

They stayed like that for a few more moments until Jensen, gripping the base of the condom firmly, pulled out, long and slow, and Jared just about stopped himself from leaning back to prevent him from pulling out, wanting to hang onto the feeling for just a little while longer - stretched wide in front of a potential audience, thoroughly used and using, but he gritted his teeth and endured as Jensen tucked himself back in, and looked around for a trash can for the condom. He was still heaving air into his lungs, when Jensen dropped to his knees, and eased Jared’s foot back into the abandoned pant leg, hand settling warm and steady on Jared’s hip, and Jared felt as though he were shaking himself back awake, the lassitude of a long-delayed orgasm flooding his system and rendering him almost mute for a moment.

 

He pulled his pants up himself and swiped futilely at the come stains on the chair with a tissue. “Leave it,” Jensen advised. “You can be sure this place has seen worse.”

 

“Doesn’t mean it’s right to leave it,” Jared said and worked away at it for a moment getting the worst of it off and trying desperately not to think of the other people who must’ve done this at some point. “Jesus, I’m going to bathe in disinfectant when I get home.”

 

“I think I'll follow suit,” Jensen said, with a smile, and Jared sank back into a chair to give it another five minutes before heading into the light of day and thinking about what he’d done. He half expected Jensen to disappear, but he sat down next to Jared, and they both watched the never ending procession of cocks, asses and assorted body parts on the screen, by this point inured to the constant low level soundtrack of sighs and grunts and moans. When Jared finally heaved himself up, Jensen followed,until they were standing awkwardly together outside the cinema, and then by mutual silent agreement they walked a little down the road as though to disassociate themselves from it.

 

“I guess this is goodbye,” Jared said, hoping desperately he didn’t sound too much like something out of Brief Encounter, and suspecting he had failed.

 

Jensen nodded. “It was good meeting you,” he said, all the more bizarre seeming for sounding so sincere.

 

“And thanks,” Jared added, “y’know for the hand. Appreciated.” And the cock, he thought but didn’t say - outside in the light of day it seemed inappropriate now all the temporary madness (and unrelieved semen) had drained away.

 

“Anytime,” Jensen said, and his eyes were surprisingly warm, the smile on his mouth engagingly sweet.

 

Jared headed off before he could do something stupid, like beg an anonymous hookup for a cell number or ask Jensen back home for round two.

 

He spent the rest of the weekend alternately kicking himself for not at least trying to extend their acquaintance and jerking off to the memory, until by the time Monday had arrived, he was nearly back to equilibrium. He’d already taken the morning off work to go see the doctor and even though the reason for his visit had disappeared, it’d be a waste not to use the appointment. It’d been five years since he’d seen a doctor anyway, a check-up would do him no harm.

 

He spent the time in the waiting room trying not to read the horror stories on the cover of the magazine in front of him, until finally he got called through to see Dr Ackles. He walked in with a cheerful greeting ready and stopped dead in surprise. Dr Ackles was Jensen-from-the-cinema, and from the looks of him nearly as astonished as Jared was. So much for an ‘anonymous hookup’ Jared thought, small fucking world indeed, and he wanted to sink through the floor. The only thing that sustained him was that Jensen looked nearly as mortified as Jared felt.

 

Jared sat down and stared at the scales in the corner of the office. The first thing that came out of his mouth, almost helplessly, was “I really didn’t know.”

 

“I can tell that from your face,” Jensen said. “If you don’t mind me asking, was your appointment about the masturbation issue?”

 

“It was,” Jared said, “but it’s been resolved.” They both knew exactly how, and it hung there between them, the elephant in the room trumpeting loudly the knowledge of where exactly they’d spent Saturday afternoon.

 

“Treatment was just what the doctor ordered,” Jensen said, and now that the shock had worn off, Jared was beginning to see the funny side as well.

 

“I got my prescription filled and took it,” he said with a straight face.

 

“They’re calling it a prescription now?” Jensen said, and pulled up Jared’s file on screen on the computer. “If you don’t mind, Jared, I’m going to ask one of my colleagues to take you on as a patient.”

 

Jared didn’t know what to say to that but Jensen clearly hadn’t finished. “I can’t ask a patient out on a date, you see,” and his brow clouded for a second, “I mean, that is if you want to go on a date of course, you might not. We could just do your examination here instead if you’d like?”

 

“Jensen,” Jared said evenly, “if I take my clothes off in here, it’s not going to result in an examination, I can tell you that much even without a medical degree, because if your previous offer still stands of getting to fuck you, I’m taking advantage of it. I’m also taking you to dinner for our second date.”

 

“Dinner?” Jensen echoed blankly, clearly taking a moment to catch up.

 

“It’s the natural progression, surely? After all we went to the movies on our first one.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback/concrit always welcome.


End file.
